


given unsought, better

by quillsand



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorks in Love, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Miscommunication, Truth or Dare, they're so cute it's sickening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10617957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillsand/pseuds/quillsand
Summary: It’s no secret that Enjolras and Grantaire’s relationship has been teetering across the boundary of platonic for a long while now. It’s absurd to Grantaire- it seems like only a few weeks ago that Enjolras was as distant and unreachable to him as Helios to Clytie.Enjolras' actions to him recently suggest otherwise._____A game of truth or dare forces Enjolras and Grantaire to decide what they want from each other.(ft. Eponine's cunning plans, a not-really-rejection, cold weather, and cute kisses.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> hi !!!! i got the prompt 'enjotaire + truth or dare' on tumblr and this was the result!! pls enjoy the not so shameless fluff this ended up becoming :)
> 
> mentions of alcohol but nothing serious or explicit

Grantaire knows it’s all about to go downhill the moment Éponine gets that smile on her face.  


There’s a lot you can learn about someone through their facial expressions- the example in question, Éponine, is currently wearing her _‘I’m about to fuck shit up and I know it_ ’ smile.

Enjolras, who is on the receiving end of said smile, looks nowhere near as terrified as he rightfully should do. Everyone who’s ever played truth or dare with Éponine knows you do not, under any circumstance, _ever_ , choose dare. Enjolras either doesn’t know this or doesn’t care, sitting up proudly and condemning himself to what Grantaire knows will be his end.

He’d always assumed Enjolras would die a martyr, nobly refusing to concede in the face of his enemies. He’d never dreamt that Enjolras would meet his end at one of Courfeyrac’s hastily thrown parties because he was foolish enough to choose dare at the hands of Éponine.

“Enjolras,” Éponine begins slowly, pronouncing every syllable in a way that sounds unmistakably dangerous- a trick she surely learnt from Montparnasse. “I dare you… to kiss Grantaire.”

There’s a moment of silence before everything happens at once: Bahorel lets out a loud cheer, Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchange Knowing glances, and Jehan claps so enthusiastically that they knock over their drink, causing Bossuet and Joly to dissolve into giggles as Feuilly sighs long sufferingly and goes to fetch a dishcloth to mop it up.

Amidst all this chaos, Enjolras’ eyes meet Grantaire’s. Grantaire gets the sense that Enjolras is trying to communicate something to him nonverbally, but his brain refuses to process anything other than panic.

It’s no secret that Enjolras and Grantaire’s relationship has been teetering across the boundary of platonic for a long while now. It’s absurd to Grantaire- it seems like only a few weeks ago that Enjolras was as distant and unreachable to him as Helios to Clytie.

They’ve never discussed it, and if it were anyone else Grantaire wouldn’t hesitate to label their interactions as flirting, but this is _Enjolras_ , and there’s a large part of Grantaire that is still reluctant to hope for anything more than friendship. Their friends have been understandable about it for the most part- but either the tension or the alcohol must’ve loosened their restraint because none of them seem to have any qualms about interfering now.

“I can’t kiss him without his consent.” Enjolras says eventually. Grantaire notices the shift in his demeanor- gone is the Enjolras who laughs and jokes with his friends, in his place is the diplomatic personality, ready to talk his way out of any situation.

Following Enjolras’ words, all eyes turn towards Grantaire. “Do whatever you want,” he tells Enjolras and the group as a whole, “I don’t mind.”

Enjolras brows crease together. Joly elbows Grantaire not-so-subtly in the side.

After looking around the circle and apparently deciding that no one is coming to his rescue, Enjolras shakes his head. “You can’t consent properly like this.” he tells Grantaire.

The carefree atmosphere seems to fade away immediately as everyone in the room detects the sudden tension left in the wake of Enjolras’ statement. “What is that supposed to mean?” asks Grantaire, with slightly more venom than he intended. “Of course I can.”

“No, you can’t. Not when you feel like you have to say yes due to the game.”

“Hey, hey, no one’s pressuring him to do anything.” Bahorel interrupts, glancing uneasily between Enjolras and Grantaire. Beside him Éponine looks as though she’s seriously regretting bringing it up in the first place.

Grantaire sits up straighter, dislodging the arm Bossuet has around his shoulders. “I’m not a child, Enjolras. I know what I’m agreeing to.”

Enjolras shakes his head once more before addressing the group as a whole. “I’m forfeiting.” he declares, to general noises of disapproval.

Grantaire tries not to let his emotions show too clearly on his face as Courfeyrac obligingly hands Enjolras a shot of vodka as per the rules for forfeiting a dare. So Enjolras doesn’t want to kiss him. It shouldn’t upset him as much as it does- he should’ve known Enjolras’ behaviour towards him was simply wishful thinking on Grantaire’s part. In what world would someone like Enjolras ever want to kiss someone like Grantaire?

God, he’s pathetic. Enjolras has no obligation to kiss him and Grantaire needs to pull himself together and stop being so butthurt over the rejection.

To save himself from his own self-pity and the waging war against his own head, Grantaire downs the rest of his drink and attempts a quiet retreat. A significant amount of time has passed since the incident, but Grantaire can still feel the weight of his friends’ concerned gazes as he leaves the room. He doesn’t turn around for the fear that Enjolras’ will be amongst them- he can’t handle Enjolras’ pity in addition to his own.

Halfway down the stairs of the building, Grantaire hears his name being called from behind in what is unmistakably Enjolras’ voice. Sighing, Grantaire turns around to face Enjolras, red faced from the cold with a scarf haphazardly thrown around his neck, still managing to look so ethereal that Grantaire almost wants to shout in frustration.

“Don’t leave,” he says, startling Grantaire. “I understand if I made things awkward, but you shouldn’t have to leave because of me. I’ll go.”  


Grantaire blinks a few times, trying to arrange his thoughts. He was never intending on leaving- he’d just needed some fresh air, a space to clear his head.  


“I’m not. Leaving, that is. It’d take more than you to scare me off, Ange.”  


Enjolras frowns upon hearing the nickname that was so obviously used to irritate him. Instead of rising to the bait, however, he persists forward with his own line of questioning. “Why did you come out here then?”

Grantaire shrugs. “Fresh air, you know, I hear it’s good for you. It was getting stuffy in there, needed to clear my head.”

“Clear your head… From what happened upstairs?”  


“What happened upstairs?” Grantaire asks, feigning innocence. Enjolras may be persistent but Grantaire can rival him in stubbornness.  


“Éponine ’s dare. I know you know what I’m talking about.”  


“Do I?” Grantaire asks.

Enjolras, bless the man’s patience, simply stares as if he can see straight through into Grantaire’s soul. “Okay fine,” Grantaire relents after the toll of Enjolras’ gaze gets to be too much. “It’s no big deal, alright? She dared you to kiss me, you didn’t want to. End of story, case closed, let’s take it and roll.”  


“It wasn’t a question of me not wanting to, it was a question of consent.”  


“We both know that was bullshit, Enjolras. How many times have we played truth or dare where kissing was involved and you’ve never made an issue out of it. Is my consent worth less than anyone else’s?” Enjolras looks distinctly troubled by this, so Grantaire tries to soften it. “Look, it’s fine if you don’t want to kiss me. Totally fine. I promise I’m not going to be an asshole about it.”

“That’s not it.” Enjolras says almost as soon as Grantaire is finished speaking. “That’s not- it’s not that I didn’t want to kiss you. I did. I _do_.”  


“Then why-”

“I didn’t want it to be like that. I didn’t want our first kiss to be because someone made us- I wanted,” he breaks off, fingers twitching along the frayed edge of the scarf. “I wanted it to be something we both wanted, when we were ready.”  


Grantaire nods slowly, trying to process. “And… are we? Would you say?”

Enjolras exhales a long breath, forming clouds in the air in front of him. “I… Would, yes. If you’re in agreement.”

“I am.” Grantaire says, almost too quickly for it to come off as smooth.  


One corner of Enjolras’ mouth quirks upwards in amusement. “Well then. I- How much have you had to drink?”

Grantaire barely manages not to roll his eyes. “No more than you have. I think we’ve well established I’m capable of consent.”  


Enjolras ducks his head, smiling. “Quite.”

Grantaire reaches forwards, pulling Enjolras closer by his scarf in an action that always looks much more elegant in the movies. Stood a step above Grantaire, Enjolras reaches just about the same height, meaning their lips are perfectly aligned when they meet.

Fully aware that his lips are dry and most likely chapped, Grantaire tries hard to focus on nothing except the feeling of being so near to Enjolras, the faint heat radiating from him. Enjolras’ cheek is warm to touch- he startles when Grantaire cups it with his palm, breaking away ever so slightly. “Cold.” Enjolras breathes on to Grantaire’s lips, though he makes no effort to move away.

“We should head back inside,” Grantaire whispers for fear of shattering the moment. Enjolras hums his agreement, threading his cold hands through Grantaire’s as he turns to tug Grantaire back up the stairs after him.  


Just before they reach the door, Enjolras turns back around. “We’ll have to talk about this properly at some point. Communication is important.”

“Of course it is.” Grantaire says, only slightly mockingly. He wouldn’t dream of doing anything to seriously annoy Enjolras at the moment. Plus, Grantaire likes to think he has at least a semi-decent understanding of Enjolras’ inner workings by now, and he knows that Enjolras isn’t the type to go rushing head first into a relationship after one kiss. They’ll have to talk, and Grantaire will have to be an adult about it (or try, at least) and it might not easy, but it will be so, so worth it. That Grantaire is sure of. “Coffee on Tuesday?” he asks, because he knows it’s the only day both their schedules match up for sure.  


“Sounds perfect.” Enjolras smiles before leaning in to kiss him again; quickly this time, but it’s enough.  


Grantaire doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night. He’s pretty sure Éponine  notices, and he’s also pretty sure he owes her the biggest thank you present money can buy- but for now he’s perfectly content as he is.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! comments (and kudos) are the life force of any writer, so please do consider taking the time to leave one !! <3
> 
> alternatively you can find me on tumblr at [tattoograntaire](http://www.tattoograntaire.tumblr.com) feel free to come talk (or scream) to me about les mis !!
> 
> (title from shakespeare's twelth night 'love sought is good, but given unsought is better' bc it was a vaguely fitting reference and i wouldn't be me if i didn't find a way to relate eveything i write back to shakespeare)


End file.
